


Sharing Your Memory

by Imoshen



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [49]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, Dom!Death, Impact Play, Leviathan!Dean - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Sub!Dean, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass, don't ask where that came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 12:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: The Leviathan wearing Dean's face roots around in Dean's memories to find relaxation material.





	Sharing Your Memory

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to tumblr @mrsimoshen
> 
> Written for  
SPN Kink Bingo for the square Leviathan!Dean on my second Card  
SPN Rare Ship Bingo for the square Death on my Card.

The Leviathan currently wearing Dean Winchester’s skin stretches out on the bed of the dingy motel room he’s holed up in. His “brother” finally left him alone, and “Dean” (he’ll never get used to that name, no matter what their Leader says) intends to make the most of the time and indulge in a little human relaxation.

There was enough in Dean Winchester’s memories to pick from, that’s for sure. Guy pretends to be your run-of-the-mill womanizer, but he’s kinky as shit and has had his fair share of male lovers.

He considers going for a fantasy with the brooding angel for a moment but then something else emerges from the mess of memories and fantasies – and oh, that’s even better. He wraps his fingers around his cock and loses himself in… oh, _perfect_. It’s not a fantasy, it’s a memory. He groans as ghosts of sensation drift over his skin.

His hands are tied above his head, the rope silky and cool against his skin. It’s just tight enough for him to really feel its presence, and Dean likes that, likes knowing he’s a little helpless for the moment.

He’s kneeling at the foot of another motel bed, the rope tethering him to the headboard. His knees ache a little, he’s been kneeling a while already – no idea how long, time is what he loses first in situations like these.

A whistling sound and sudden, sharp pain on his ass that immediately blooms into pleasure. Dean sobs out a moan, his whole body trembling in the aftermath.

His as is a mess of aches and sharper pains, and he knows who is responsible for that. Death’s black-clad legs come into sight as he walks up beside Dean. The thin, flexible bamboo cane dangles from one long-fingered hand, and Dean shivers again at the mere sight of it. “Please,” he manages to croak out. “Please, more.”

There’s a smile in Death’s voice as he answers. “Hush, Dean. You will get more in a moment.”

Cool fingers run along his arms, check his wrists and hands. They run down his back in a feathery caress, bringing with them the remembered ache of lash marks from scenes long-gone. Dean moans and sinks deeper into the mattress.

More silky, cool rope around his thighs, tethering him tightly to the bed. They pull his legs further apart, spreading him open, exposing his balls and dick, hard and leaking – and his hole, which has been untouched until now. Death’s hands are almost gentle as he pulls Dean’s cheeks further apart, but Dean whines nonetheless as the touch brings fresh pain from the cane’s stripes. His cock twitches and leaks more fluid.

The slick touch to his hole is cold, making his breath hitch, but he’s bound tightly and can’t twitch away. Then he’s breached, a single finger sliding in, and Dean sobs out another plea, needing more, needing it _deeper_…

Death knows him well. One finger becomes two, the stretch just on the right side of painful, a low, deep ache Dean craves. There’s a lot of slick lube, but he doesn’t get more fingers. Instead, Death spends what feels like a small eternity sliding two slender fingers in and out until Dean’s hole takes them easily. Dean sinks into the sensation, moaning with each long, slow glide in, whining every time they slide back out. Then he whines again, harsher this time, as they slip out all the way, leaving him wet and open and _empty_.

Something hard nudges against his hole. Dean holds his breath and then loses it in a long, high moan when what he _knows_ is the handle of Death’s scythe slides into him. It feels as if it keeps going in forever, all smooth, ungiving wood against his insides. Dean moans and whines and trembles – and then the handle starts sliding out again at that same, unhurried pace. Death rests one hand on Dean’s back as he keeps fucking him with _the handle of his scythe_, and Dean can’t do anything but lie there and take it, feel the hardness of the wood and how it doesn’t warm to his body temperature even after it’s been slid in and out several times…

The hard, slightly rounded end nudges Dean’s prostate, and he moans and twitches in place. Death makes a low, amused sound and keeps it at that angle and depth, just nudging it back and forth. The constant pressure is too much.

Dean comes with a scream, feeling his insides clench and quiver around the wooden rod in his hole. His release splatters against the duvet and onto the floor, his cock twitching with the force of his orgasm.

The Leviathan sighs and stretches lazily. He wipes his come on the bedspread and settles back down, letting the rest of the memory slowly fade. He has no need for any sort of aftercare.

As he considers whether to get up and dressed again or indulge in another human idea and have a nap, a part of him is amused that Dean Winchester apparently has an affair with Death. Might explain why the idiot doesn’t die.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make an author's day <3


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